


Waking Up and Waking Up and Waking Up in Starbase 16

by SupposedToBeWriting



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Abuse Mentions, Also I Have Never Seen Groundhog Day, Angst, Bonds, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Poisoning Mentions, Sort of Like Groundhog Day, Suspense, Tarsus IV mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 13:53:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19792237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupposedToBeWriting/pseuds/SupposedToBeWriting
Summary: Jim wakes up in a bio-bed on a starbase with Spock right by his side. He's told he's suffered some memory issues after a head injury, but as he starts to investigate, it becomes clear that all is not what it seems. There is something very wrong on the starbase, but Jim just can't seem to escape it. Will Jim be able to escape with his bondmate (and his mind) intact, or will he be at his captors' mercy forever?





	1. Cycle One

Jim wasn’t at all surprised when he opened his eyes to find Spock sitting next to the bio-bed, even if he had no idea how either of them had gotten there. It was rare that he woke up alone anymore.

He did feel a little guilty, though, because, yup, he definitely felt concern and delayed fear through their bond. As he started to shift, he felt Spock privately and covertly block it, probably to spare his feelings. _Damn._ “Hey,” he greeted meekly, stretching to push himself into a sitting position. Spock’s hand went forward to help him and adjusted the pillows tucked around his back.

Although he expected a lot of pain, a lot of soreness, Jim was surprised that he felt … pretty fine. Maybe not marathon-ready. More stiff than anything else, but no real pain.

“The USS Enterprise has docked at Starbase 16,” Spock reported. “You were immediately transferred to the medical station.”

Trust Spock to always be his own personal assistant. “Good,” Jim remarked, and then a few seconds pause where Jim tried, honest-to-God, to rack his own mind and figure out how the hell he had landed in this bed.

There’d been an away mission. _Yes._ Jim and Spock and a few other crewmembers had beamed down. _Yes._ The planet had been … green? Maybe. Then, nothing. Waking up in a hospital bed next to his husband.

“How are you feeling?”

Even if Jim couldn’t feel the bond perfectly, he’d gotten good at hearing the concern in Spock’s voice. They’d been bondmates for the better part of a year, and God knew they’d been friends for a while before that. He could pick out Spock’s voice, and any emotion in it, from a crowd of a million people. He flashed a half-grin up to him. “Are you saying I don’t look good, Spock? I’m offended.”

“You look well?”

“I _feel_ fine, too.” Jim figured that if there was anyone he could ask about what happened, it would be his first officer. Hopefully it wouldn’t worry Spock too much more. “I don’t want to make you nervous, but could I get a quick report about what happened?”

Oh, god, Spock was giving him The Vulcan Frown. “You don’t remember?”

“No. So I’m _guessing_ head injury.”

“No, I … “ It wasn’t like Spock to trail off. “I also cannot remember.” _Huh._ “I was assuming that I had suffered a head injury and my memory was affected, but I had healed from my injuries faster than you. I woke up with the knowledge of where we were, and that is all.”

“Oh … kay.” Jim nodded, turning so that he was facing straight ahead. Not _impossible_ that both of them could have suffered head injuries. Just unusual. And Spock was still in his uniform, while Jim was in medical clothing. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Perfectly well. I woke up in this chair eighteen minutes ago.”

“You fell asleep in a _chair?_ That’s not like you.”

“I presumed it was a delayed effect of the head injury.”

“That wouldn’t have let you out if you were having problems remaining conscious.” Inwardly, Jim’s suspicion welled up and made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He didn’t know what was going on, and there was a chance that this all had a perfectly reasonable explanation. “Is there a chart anywhere around here that I can read?”

“No. I have already checked the room. It is likely with the attending doctor to prevent unauthorized access.”

Ever logical. “We’re married, honey. It’s not like they have to worry about hiding things from you.” He could see the familiar bump of the wedding ring, barely visible underneath Spock’s uniform on a chain. It got in the way too often when he performed his duties, though Spock did seem to want to wear it. It had been a happy compromise. Jim’s was on his finger, still. “I’m going to go ask around.”

As he said it, Jim kicked his legs out from underneath the blankets and stood up on the floor. Spock’s hands were on him in a second, one on his back, the other around his shoulders to help him to stand. Jim stood without difficulty, and soon, Spock stepped back.

“You are suffering _no_ pain?” He questioned, suspicious.

“None. I could run a mile.” Jim cracked his neck once. “Maybe after some stretches.” Maybe he could track down one of the crew – Bones would know what was going on. He never let Jim just _go_ to the doctors on a starbase; it was always something that Bones indirectly commandeered. He couldn’t have been far.

Before he stepped out, though, he stopped in his tracks. Spock was hovering too close behind him. He got like that. Jim glanced over his shoulder. “What’s with the bond-blocking? I already felt you being all worried. Can’t be tough and logical about it, now.”

“I was under the impression that you were recovering. I know it nauseates you to experience strong emotion from the bond while you are in pain.”

“That was _once.”_ Jim gestured to himself. “And, besides. Told you. No pain.”

Spock seemed to accept it, and suddenly, Jim felt the bond spring to life.

Love. That was the first feeling, right out of the gate.

 _Awww. I’m the luckiest guy in the galaxy._ The honeymoon period wasn’t _quite_ over yet, though Spock always got grumpy at him when Jim brought up the concept. Spock could not see the logic in his feelings becoming more dull over time. Jim smiled at him, pushing the door open. “I feel better already.”

They’d figure this out. There was going to be a fine explanation, he knew, and then they’d all laugh about it and continue their mission later.

Jim felt a little less crazy when he noticed how suspicious Spock also felt. That validated him a little. Something was off, here.

The hallway seemed normal enough. Jim didn’t know what he was expecting.

“Starbase 16 is new, relative to other starbases.” Spock started to explain as they walked down the hallway. They were moving slow down the hallway, as if they expected hostiles at any turn. Still, Jim saw nothing but the sparsely decorated hallways, which wasn’t atypical in the hospital wing. Every so often, they’d pass a large window opening out into the galaxy. “It is sparsely populated and serves mostly as a collection of starship services.” Jim stood in front of the window. He covered his eyes to protect from the glare of the hallway light. There was _nothing_ out there. Not unusual, this part of the galaxy, but it got him uneasy. He didn’t see the _Enterprise_ docked anywhere, either. On the other side of the starbase, probably. “Starship repairs. Medical personnel. A room appropriate to conduct a court martial, if appropriate.”

“So not big?”

“No,” Spock intoned behind him as Jim searched for something familiar outside the window. “Thirty-seven crewmembers in total.”

“Is this another thing you just woke up knowing?”

“No. Myself and the navigational officer on duty make technical note of nearby starbases whenever an away mission is planned.” Spock paused, and … _that smugness is really unnecessary, Spock,_ Jim projected to his bondmate. “Don’t you?”

“Put it on my to-do list. I never got around to it this time. Yeah, I don’t see anything around here. You hear anything?”

Spock tensed beside him, listening, but Jim felt no recognition from him. This wasn’t _normal._ Starbases, even the small ones, were typically full of life. This was the starbase crew’s temporary home, after all, and whether it felt like a sprawling metropolis or a cottage in the wood, there was _something._ The tense suspicion in Jim’s stomach tightened further. “Let’s keep walking, then.”

He noticed Spock was walking close by him, their shoulders occasionally checking. _Unnecessary, honey,_ he urged through the bond, _I can defend myself._

 _There is something wrong here, ashayam._ Man, when was last time he’d heard a pet name while Spock was in uniform? _We do not know what dangers we could face._

_Theories?_

_None so far._ Jim knew Spock could feel his incredulity across the bond, and he corrected defensively: _None that hold any meaningful weight._

At least Spock was as clueless as he was. “Right,” he spoke out loud with a sigh. Communicating through the bond was all well and good (and frankly strategically useful), but Jim found that he couldn’t really focus on anything else when he did it. Spock did it so _easily_ , like he was flexing a muscle. Jim could barely project and breathe at the same time. “Okay. Whatever’s going on – we can find the hangar and get back on the _Enterprise._ We have to make sure the crew is safe. Can you hail them on your … ?”

Spock’s comm-badge was missing. His uniform was in perfect order otherwise. Spock noticed simultaneously as he groped at his breast, his eyes snapping up in shock.

“Let’s just get to the Enterprise.” That was all that could be done. They walked along the empty hallways, eventually breaking out into the main terminal. The entire time, Jim didn’t hear a soul, and he knew Spock didn’t, either. It was like the entire starbase was abandoned, even as plants flourished around them and fish bubbled away in their tanks. “Captain,” Spock advised, standing near a physical map of the starbase. Jim joined him. Okay, that hallway, two lefts, and then they were there. _Got it._

“Captain Kirk, Commander Spock,” a voice boomed behind them.

Usually, Jim wasn’t jumpy, but this entire experience had freaked him out so badly that he was ready to jump at a fly. Spock was somewhat more composed about it, though Jim felt the shock of surprise across the bond.

This man was a commodore, given the bands on his uniform. He was a man of approximate middle-age, human, balding. The first other living person he’d seen on the starbase. Jim was wary.

“C-Commodore,” Jim stuttered out awkwardly. _The flag officer in charge of this starbase. Commodore Laskey,_ Spock supplied next to him. “Commodore Laskey.”

“I’m pretty sure you ought to be in your bed, still, Captain Kirk.” There was nothing malicious about his tone. Flag officers typically weren’t the most aggressive of sorts, especially if they helmed a smaller starbase. It was a comfortable position to be in, away from most of the planetside politics. “You’re still in your hospital wear.”

Spock was prickling with suspicion, and it was good to know that he wasn’t going crazy. “Went to try to discharge myself, but I’m, uh, afraid that we couldn’t find any medical officers around. I feel perfectly fine, you see.”

“Oh, you know,” Laskey continued, “They’re around.”

“Are they? In fact, I – we -- actually couldn’t find _anyone_ on this starbase.”

“It’s the middle of the night, Captain. At least, as far as the starbase is concerned. You can hardly blame the clinic for being unattended at this time of night, especially when we didn’t expect you to wake up until morning.”

There weren’t any clocks around. Even with PADDs and wristwatches widely available, starbases usually had clocks up for convenience. Times were announced on the hour, and they’d been up and about for more than an hour.

… hadn’t they?

 _We must have,_ Spock stubbornly projected to him. _There is still something amiss._

“Then we apologize for the inconvenience,” Jim offered in return. “We were just trying to return to our ship, to check on our crew. My first officer’s misplaced his comm badge.”

“Oh, no, no. You’re still a patient. You need to return to the medical facilities and _rest._ Your ship is _fine._ ”

“There’s no need for that, commodore. I feel perfectly fine. No pain in the slightest.”

“Yes. But surely your Vulcan officer here will agree that not all injuries gives you pain? Your issues with your memory might grow worse.”

Maybe it wasn’t completely out of this world that a flag officer would know the medical status of the patients on his starbase. Maybe. But along with everything else, Jim was ready to start running. Especially when he noticed a phaser on the man’s hip. _Why would you need a phaser on a friendly starbase?_

 _You would not,_ Spock’s projection returned to him as he spoke. “We at least request to return to the _Enterprise_ and retrieve our chief medical officer. Captain Kirk has many allergies to known medication, and while his medical file will have been provided, Dr. McCoy often oversees the treatment as an additional precautionary measure.”

He took a step towards the hallway that they needed.

“ _Wait.”_ The commodore’s eyes lit up in panic. “You can’t. You _must_ return to the medical facility.”

“Are we being detained here?” Jim asked, even as Spock took another step. Laskey’s hand went up to stop him.

“No, we simply – you cannot – not yet.”

_His phaser is not on stun; I can see the setting on his belt. I am going, Jim. Follow directly behind me, and if he proceeds after us, do not stop._

_His phaser isn’t on stun? Are you kidding me? Also, did I miss the part where you make the getaway plans?_

_Do you disagree?_

Jim looked at the Commodore, saw that he seemed especially frantic, especially urgent. Not aggressive, not yet, but _damn_ if Jim didn’t trust twitchy people. _No,_ he replied, and Spock nodded imperceptibly.

Spock broke out into a jog, and Jim went straight behind him towards the hallway. Laskey let out a noise of shock behind them, but Jim kept moving. They had to get out of there. _Now._

A beam of light shot out from across the room. Jim heard it before he saw it, a sharp _crack_ from the phaser, and turned his head to look back. As he did, Spock let out a sharp grunt of pain beside him and fell forward.

Somewhere, deep with him, Jim felt their bond _rip,_ his mind forcibly separated from his bondmate’s. It was as if a crevasse had opened deep inside him, splitting him apart, sharp and intense enough that Jim fell to his knees, clutching at his chest. It was as if a weight settled there, and he couldn’t get a breath, he couldn’t _breathe._ Still, he lurched forward onto his hands, trying to get to Spock.

In front of him, Spock was laying face-down. A phaser mark was situated in the lower part of his back, dark enough that parts of his uniform were still flickering with light. _Honey,_ Jim tried to project across the bond, but it felt as if his words were hitting a wall. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t even breathe. _Honey,_ he begged again, one hand stretching out towards Spock. _Oh, no. No, no, no, no, Spock, baby, please, don’t, not like this, not here._

There were footsteps beside him. Jim turned towards his side, and looked down Laskey. The phaser was held tight in his grip. His face was blank. Jim could look directly into the phaser, and, directly before he heard the shot, Jim closed his eyes.


	2. Cycle Two

Jim inhaled sharply as he woke up, bolting upright in bed. His hands immediately went to his face, scraping and rubbing over it. He could feel his body tense, expecting pain, but there was nothing there. No pain at all. No weight on his chest. No severed bond.

No severed bond.

“Jim,” he heard beside him, and then there were arms around his shoulders. Spock was hugging him, _tight,_ and Jim immediately weaved his fingers into Spock’s hair to hold him close. “ _Jim.”_

“You’re okay.” The sight of Spock, face-down, phaser burn on his back, was still fresh in Jim’s mind. He felt like he would be able to recall that image for the rest of his life. But – “We’re okay,” he breathed, pressing his forehead against the side of Spock’s neck. The wedding chain around Spock’s neck dug into him, and he was so grateful for it. “Oh my God. I saw you … _what the hell is going on,_ Spock?”

Spock didn’t respond at first, and he received no projected thoughts. Instead, Jim felt almost dizzy with the fear, relief, and love he got from his partner. Spock was scared, still, scared of what had happened. Jim knew Spock could feel some of his delayed heartbreak. Spock was making no plans, making no theories, but still coming to terms with being alive – and Jim being alive.

 _T’hy’la,_ Jim projected nonetheless. It was a lot easier to pronounce words when you didn’t actually have to _say_ them. _I don’t know what’s going on. We’re going to figure it out, together. We’ve got each other. We’re both okay. You can feel me. Can you?_

 _Yes,_ Spock returned. _I can._

When Spock eventually released him, Jim could already feel Spock composing his emotions. Jim didn’t know how he was holding it together. The spectre of the grief and the breathlessness and that terrible _weight_ on his chest …

_It was cardiac arrest._

“What?” Jim asked Spock, stunned, who regarded him steadily.

_The loss of a bondmate, especially when the loss is traumatic, can agitate the heart. Given the situation, you likely started to go into cardiac arrest._

“Cool.” Jim replied, anxiety pricking him. “Just almost had a heart attack. Cool. Cool, cool, cool, cool.”

 _Whatever is happening here, Jim …_ Spock’s thought trailed off as he grasped for an explanation, for comfort, but the point of it was that Jim had no idea what was going on. And he _knew_ Spock had no idea what was going on. 

_I know. We’ll figure it out, okay? Two geniuses in a room._ Jim finally responded, flashing Spock a smile. _But we gotta hold it together until then._

_I have restrained myself._

_I feel it. I love you, for the record._

Spock blinked, but the response was nonetheless immediate. _I love you._ Jim raised his fingers up and Spock pressed them together, meanwhile leaning forward to press his lips against Jim’s. Sure, Jim figured, they had a plan to make, but he’d just seen his dead bondmate. He could take in a little comfort. Spock needed it, too.

“ _Alright,_ you two lovebirds,” Dr. McCoy grumbled, stepping inside the room. Spock withdrew with such speed that his chair nearly tipped over, and Jim withdrew his fingers. “Don’t make me start spraying you with water.”

They’d just got another player. Jim shared a look with Spock. Bones was also missing his comm badge, his medical blues otherwise in perfect order. “Bones,” he coughed out, readjusting himself. “I – “

“Yeah, yeah, don’t make excuses. Honeymoon period or whatever the _hell._ Just lay back while I check your vitals.”

“Dr. McCoy, this starbase is not safe. We must leave immediately.”

“What are you talking about, Spock? This place is fine. Besides, you’ve both been conscious for all of five minutes. I can’t believe you fell asleep on this chair, honestly, but I didn’t have the heart to move you. Maybe I _am_ an old romantic at heart.”

“No, Bones, you don’t get it. This isn’t the first time I’ve woken up.”

“I’ve been monitoring you, Jim. Haven’t registered any conscious signals before now. Willing to bet you haven’t, either, Spock. _Pretty_ sure you’re not supposed to be up and walking yet.”

Jim was stubborn. His eyes fixed into a glare. “Bones, _listen_ to me. We woke up before. We saw nobody on the starbase, we ran into Commodore Laskey. He _shot_ Spock, and then he shot me.”

Dr. McCoy regarded him curiously, before bursting out into laughter.

“Are you kidding me? I just _talked_ with Commodore Laskey. Guy wouldn’t budge from his cushy office if the starbase was on fire. I don’t think he’s operated a phaser since the Academy. Which was a long time ago, for him.” He shook his head, holding a PADD in his hand as he scrolled through it. Jim caught a glance of his photo-on-file, but not much else. _Medical file,_ maybe.

“Are you serious? I know what I saw. Bones. Spock was there, too. Tell him, Spock.”

“What the Captain says is accurate. Dr. McCoy, we _must_ go.”

Bones rolled his eyes at the both of them. “Jesus. Now I’m getting it in stereo. Look,” he sighed, tapping on the PADD and showing an electrocardiogram. It … didn’t look great. “Your ECG was all over the place while you slept. You probably had a nightmare. And you, Mr. Husband, probably shared it with him.”

That had happened, before, and was probably one of the worst drawbacks of the bond (besides, apparently, going into cardiac arrest when it ended). Jim had suffered through nightmares, seen the horrors of Tarsus, stared up at Frank’s violent drunk face, saw Vulcan crumble _again_ and _again,_ all while feeling Spock right by his side.

It wasn’t always nightmares. Spock had helped with that, a lot. He’d shared good dreams, too, silly dreams, nonsensical dreams, and there were few things in life hotter than sharing a wet dream with a partner.

“You guys both had a head injury,” Bones went on. His hands went forward to gingerly probe at Jim’s head. Jim still didn’t feel any pain. “Memory issues are part—and-parcel of that, so don’t be surprised if you don’t remember.”

 _What he says is not impossible, Jim._ Spock was looking at him professionally. When Jim got that thought, his head snapped to stare at him. _That we shared a nightmare._

_Are you fucking kidding me right now? I know what I saw. You know what you saw. That couldn’t have been a dream. I couldn’t have thought something like that if I tried._

_We have no other logical explanation. Dr. McCoy is a medical doctor. He would know._

_Why are you believing this so easily?_

_We have no other logical explanation,_ Spock repeated, an ounce of frustration – at himself and at Jim – creeping into the bond.

Ahead of them, Bones sighed. “Would you like to share your note with the class, Jim?”

“Oh, you know. Domestic bliss.”

Jim received both an emotional equivalent of an eye roll from Spock and an actual eye roll from Bones.

“How’s the _Enterprise?”_ He finally probed. “Yeah. Both me and Spock are having some issues with memory.” Jim certainly didn’t believe Dr. McCoy, but as to why Bones would lie to him … he didn’t know, yet. Maybe his memories had been messed with, too.

“Oh? Fine. Sulu told everyone to enjoy a few days of leave while you get patched up. As much leave as they can enjoy, here. This is basically the equivalent of an intergalactic gas station.”

Usually, Jim would snort. Now, he didn’t even laugh. “If I promise to be back within fifteen minutes, can I at least see her? You know I get bad separation anxiety from the lovely lady.”

“Jim, you’ve suffered a head injury. You need to _rest._ Keep talking like that and I’m just going to sedate you.”

“But I feel fine! Seriously, no pain at all, not even when you were touching my head. If I feel weak, I’ll come back. Look, I’ll take Spock with me, and if I start feeling bad, he’ll take me back.”

“I will supervise him,” Spock promised, but Bones still shook his head.

“You’re not even supposed to be out of your own _room,_ Spock, I don’t know how the hell you even wandered over here without setting off a dozen alarms. Come on, get up and march back.”

Although Spock was never one to disobey a direct order from a medical officer, he must’ve felt the sharp prick of fear that surged through Jim. Spock shifted his weight to lean towards the bed. “Dr. McCoy. Would it be possible for me to remain here, at least until the captain falls asleep? I am detecting some agitation.”

_Way to call me out, Spock._

He received no response. Bones hesitated, before sighing in exasperation. “Fine. But I’m going to give him a sedative to make sure he falls asleep faster, because you _also_ need to rest at some point. You really worried us all.”

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” Jim muttered sarcastically, reaching up to press both palms into his eyes. This was just so _frustrating._ Something was _wrong,_ still, and he didn’t buy the shared nightmare bullshit. “Can you at least tell me what happened on the away mission? Are the other crewmembers okay?”

“Sure. You all beamed down, and weren’t there but twenty minutes before an earthquake hit your location. The path you all were walking on started to crumble, and you both fell off the sheer side of a cliff. Honestly, it’s a wonder you all didn’t get yourselves killed.”

_We fell off a cliff. And there’s no marks on us. None. No pain, not even being sore. I’ve felt worse after vigorous sex, Spock, and you still think there’s nothing going on?_

Spock cleared his throat. “And we were found unconscious? We remained unconscious the entire time?”

“Well, Jim did. You must’ve woken up long enough to wander the halls and get in. But otherwise, yeah.”

_If you were also a patient, Spock, why are you still wearing your uniform and I’m in patient clothes?_

“And we must have underwent severe dermal regeneration for any lacerations? Vessel regeneration for contusions?”

“Uh …” Bones seemed to hesitate. “Uh, yeah. You went through all that. Not by me, though, one of the other medical officers.”

“And a sonic shower, to remove the dirt and grime from the planet?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure, you must’ve. You really don’t have to pigeonhole me about medical procedure, Spock, promise we followed it to the letter.”

Spock paused, before asking a final question: “How long have we all been unconscious?”

“Uh, let’s see, about,” Bones offered, staring up at a clock in the room. Jim twitched when he saw it. _That couldn’t have been there before._ “Four hours. Twenty-two minutes. Fifteen seconds. Sixteen.”

“That’s, uh,” Jim let out a nervous chuckle. “Awfully specific, Bones. You’re sounding like Spock over there.”

Bones shot him a glare, one he’d received a thousand times before. It put Jim even further into internal red alert.

_He’s creeping me the fuck out, Spock. Now do you see what I’m saying? Something’s still wrong here._

_I agree. There is no possible way that you would have had a head injury treated, dermal regeneration, blood vessel regeneration, and a sonic shower within the time allotted. And, as you said, I am still wearing my uniform. It does not show any signs of wear._

Jim wanted to follow up and ask if _that_ was really what set him off, but Bones clucked before he could focus again. “Alright. Q and A over. You really need to get some rest, Jim, let me get you something to put you there.”

He went to retrieve the hypo from the medical replicator in the room. As he did so, he took the PADD he’d been holding and set it face down on the small table beside Jim’s bed. Jim caught Spock’s eyes flash towards it, and then an emerging anxiety.

_Don’t tell me there’s more bad news. What did you see?_

_It was your medical file._

_And?_

_There were only four lines of information on it, besides your photo. Nothing more than basic information. That is not your actual medical file, Jim._

Jim’s breath left him in a rush, and Bones was already at his bedside. “Hey, m-maybe I stay up for a little while longer?” He chuckled nervously, watching Bones play with the hypo in his hand. _I need to be awake. To figure this out. Spock, stall for me._ “I feel fine. Seriously.”

“Jesus, Jim, it’s just for a few hours, don’t be such a big baby.”

“I agree with the Captain’s assessment. We must discuss the details of the mission before he falls asleep. Reports must be filed with our injuries.”

“And they _will_ be, Spock, and they can also wait. You only have until Jim falls asleep before I’m making sure you get back in your bed, anyway.” Bones advanced on him.

_Would you like me to physically prevent Dr. McCoy from giving you the sedative?_

_What, like attacking him? Jesus, Spock, no. Whatever’s going on here, I don’t want you to hurt a crewmember._

_What if it is not Dr. McCoy?_

That was something Jim hadn’t considered. There had been something off about him, the way he mindlessly recited the time since they’d been asleep, but that wasn’t enough to justify _assault. We can’t bank on that being true, Spock. Look, it’s a few hours. We wake up, we deal with it, then. Just please, for the love of God, honey, be careful._

Jim felt pressure against his neck. Bones was still regarding him suspiciously. Whenever Jim projected his thoughts to Spock with Bones in the room, it irritated the hell out of him to be left out of the loop. He gave Bones a shit-eating grin as the pressure released.

Man. That was some fast-acting stuff. Jim felt dizzy almost immediately, his muscles relaxing against the bed. He felt like … a big lump. A lump of meat and skin, and he couldn’t really feel his limbs all that well. He could still feel the bond, but it was just a sluggish train of emotions, feeding straight into his mind. _Choo-choo,_ Jim projected lazily. _Hey, honey. Choo-choo._

“What sedative did you administer to him, Dr. McCoy?” Spock asked conversationally, but his voice could’ve been a thousand miles away. Jim wanted to tell him that it was much easier to just project it over the bond, but he couldn’t even focus hard enough to project thoughts himself, anymore.

Hell, even breathing seemed so hard. He took a deep breath every few seconds, but each breath was getting more difficult. Not even in a way where he panicked about it. Did he need to breathe, _really?_

“Uh, the usual, the one on his file.”

“There are several written on his file, each with a variety of different side effects. I only wish to know what we should be prepared for. The name, please.”

Bones hesitated, before glancing at the hypo in his hand. “Melorazine. 4 ccs.”

 _Oh,_ Jim thought blearily. He didn’t think it was being projected, but who knew. What _was_ a bond, anyway? _That’s … that’s one of the bad ones for me._

Spock was out of his chair in an instant. Jim’s eyes were only half-open as he watched Spock step forward. Bones put his hands out to defend himself, but it didn’t do anything as Spock slammed his arm against Bones’ collarbone. He was pinning him to the wall as Bones weakly kicked at him.

“ _What is this place,”_ he heard Spock hiss, but his eyes were closed. If he wanted to keep breathing, he couldn’t breathe _and_ listen. He struggled out for three more breaths, before even that became even more difficult. It was like he couldn’t force his lungs to inflate.

So Jim stopped.


	3. Cycle Three

Waking up this time was a little more peaceful. Jim felt groggy, though. He was on his side and his eyes cracked open, immediately seeing Spock there. Alive, okay. Jim smiled in his sleep. _This might be a neverending nightmare, but I’m never going to get tired of waking up to that face._ Slowly, he started to shake the grogginess from his mind and gradually grow more alert.

There were two things that he noticed immediately.

One, Spock was wearing a yellow uniform.

Two, he couldn’t feel _any_ emotion coming from him, though Spock’s eyes were on him nevertheless.

Damn asshole was blocking the bond again. Hadn’t they been through enough already? Jim had no idea how much time had passed. If time even _meant_ anything there. “Hey, jerkwad,” he mumbled against the pillow, “Let me in.”

Spock’s eyes flicked down to Jim, regarding him as Jim still remained on the pillow. He would get up, eventually, but right then, he just wanted to rest. He was pretty sure he had just died because Bones had inadvertently gave him a sedative he was allergic to. He deserved a few more minutes of rest.

“Excuse me, Mr. Kirk?”

Jim blew a raspberry. “ _Mister?_ Didn’t think we were roleplaying.”

“I do not understand. Clarify.”

“Uh-huh.” With a grunt, Jim moved onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. “The bond. You’re blocking it. Let me in. I don’t feel that bad.”

Finally, Spock visibly looked confused as his eyebrows knitted together. He remained silent.

“And what’s with the yellow?”

“I am a security officer.”

“Um.” The news was confusing enough that it gave Jim the opportunity to push himself up to a seated position. He pulled the blankets off of him. From this position, he could see that Spock was one-hundred percent packing heat against his hip. Quite literally – though he could see the phaser was set for stun. That was a small comfort. “No you’re not? You’re a science officer?”

“I have always been a security officer.” Spock’s lips pulled into a frown. He was thinking, clearly, and it felt so _frustrating_ that Jim couldn’t crack open his mind to see. “For … for some time.” A pause. “Surely.”

Oh, shit. Whoever the hell was doing this – and if it even was a _who,_ if Jim just hadn’t died somewhere and this wasn’t some light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel bullshit or psychedelic trip—had made another fucking game for him to play.

Jim cursed under his breath as he looked towards Spock’s neckline. There was no wedding chain, no familiar bump of a wedding ring. He looked down at his own hand. Nope. He was a bachelor.

 _Fuck this._ Now he didn’t even have Spock for support. Was this even Spock? Or some weird memory, like Bones was? Or maybe Bones was real, and Spock was fake. Or maybe they were all fake. Or maybe this was a nightmare that Spock wasn’t sharing in on. Or maybe Spock was sharing in on it, but he was acting different because of the dream.

Jim’s head hurt. Not having a bond made him feel lonely. Not having someone to bounce ideas off of made him feel even lonelier.

“Okay, Mr. Spock,” he sighed, reaching up a hand to pinch his nose. “Why don’t you explain to me what your whole business is. Gonna give me a hypo I’m allergic to? Gonna get Laskey to shoot me again?”

“You have suffered from a head injury,” Spock muttered under his breath, as if reminding himself. He spoke more emphatically, “You are an enemy and traitor to the Federation. Information from your hands was transferred to Romulan forces, and several lives were lost as a result. You were retrieved from a planet after you sustained a head injury. As chief security officer on the _Enterprise,_ I was ordered to keep you from fleeing the starbase before a court martial can convene.”

“Amazing. Great, best day of my life. And we’re not married?”

That had been the last question Spock had been expecting. He leaned back in the chair, hands firmly on his knees. Nothing betrayed on his face, but Jim knew that look. That was the _is this crazy human bullshit or am I slowly being driven insane_ look. “No?”

“Cool. And I’m willing to bet that you don’t remember how you got here?”

Another pause as Spock considered. “No,” he admitted. “I woke up on this chair, which I will admit is highly unusual, as I am charged with watching you. Nor do I remember falling asleep. I do remember the parameters of my mission, though.”

That made sense. Jim didn’t have any more memories than usual, besides that he’d died twice in the past _whatever_ hours and it was really starting to piss him off. He was done trying to operate by the rules of the day. He was getting out, he was getting on the _Enterprise,_ and he was going _home._

To his husband.

To his t’hy’la.

Damn it, he was sitting right there and Jim missed him already. He was whipped. And he couldn’t even feel the bond so that Spock could explain to him why that term was inaccurate and unhealthy.

“Okay,” Jim grunted, looking towards Spock finally. “Okay. Spock, whatever this is, this isn’t real. I don’t know if we’re all asleep right now, or if this is an elaborate prank, but it’s _not_ real.”

Spock didn’t believe him. He knew that.

“In the _real_ part, we’re married. And bonded. We did a modified, dual ceremony. It was good.” _The best day of my life, actually, but we’re not going into it right now, because that’s just making it hurt. And it’s way easier to be mad than to be hurt._

“I am going to find a doctor so that he may assess your status. Clearly your head injury is more severe than originally expected, and –”

“Don’t waste your breath. Bones hasn’t walked in, which probably means you won’t be able to find a soul alive in this place. Maybe Laskey. But he’s not gonna be really happy to see you. Besides, your charge is to watch over me, right?”

Although Spock nodded, Jim could see that he was nervous. It was easy enough, even without the bond. A simple shift in his chair, a swallow that wouldn’t normally be there.

“I’m gonna prove to you that I’m right.” Jim didn’t even know if that would help, but at least it would get Spock on his side. He wasn’t gonna be able to go anywhere with Spock The Security Guard watching his every movement and believing he was some enemy of the Federation. “Vulcan culture. You don’t volunteer information about certain concepts in Vulcan culture to _anyone._ Technically, you’re only supposed to talk to them with your bondmate and other Vulcans. Right?”

Another nod. Spock was staring straight ahead, not at him, not at anyone.

“Cool. You’ve got a tattoo on the inside of your left bicep. It kind of looks like a maze. You got it when you were seven, once you completed your _kahs-wan_ ceremony. You also killed a lizard during that ceremony, but felt so guilty about it that you didn’t eat it. You still have its horn, though, and you carved _May I Never Kill Again_ on it. You hold onto it when you’re stressed out or you need to make an important decision, to remind you of Vulcan philosophy.

Once every seven years, you go through Pon Farr _._ The only ways out of Pon Farr are mating, defeating a romantic rival in ritual combat, or, super cool, death through blood fever. Usually that’s when people go home and finally bond with the person they get betrothed to when you’re a kid. The lady you were betrothed to, T’Pring, died in the destruction of Vulcan. We’ve been through one Pon Farr together. We took shore leave on an aquatic planet with a bunch of islands on it. It was great, and I’ve already marked the next one down on my ship calendar.

You struggled with mind-melding as a kid. It didn’t help that you got bullied by little Vulcan racists about not being a real Vulcan, which made you super self-conscious about it. When we first mind-melded, you requested that we each show a memory to keep it simple. I showed you taking a joyride through a car. You showed me walking through the Vulcan wilderness with your pet _sehlat._ Her name was I-Chaya. It was beautiful. You kept looking up at the stars there, and we went through an area called The Forge. That’s important in Vulcan culture; it’s where Surak walked on his pilgrimage. You liked it, personally, because you couldn’t get your communicator to function there. You could be alone.”

Jim took a breath, before collapsing back on the pillows. Wow, he was thirsty. He could use a glass of water. If he could even trust the water here. Rubbing his hand over his stubble, Jim spared a glance over at Spock.

Spock’s hand was trembling.

“That … might’ve been a little much. Spock, I really don’t want to overwhelm you, here, but you’ve got to know that some of your memories aren’t real. I know what’s going on. As much as anyone here does.”

He didn’t hear anything from Spock for a while.

“What do we do?”

Jim breathed out in relief. Thank God. He swung his legs over the side of the bed. It felt good to stand again. “We need to get to the _Enterprise_ and get out of here. I don’t know – “ _I don’t know if you’ll change. I don’t know if you’ll remember you’re a science officer again. I don’t know._ “It’s better than here.”

Spock stood, but withdrew his phaser. Jim took a step back at the sight of it.

“The possibility that you are lying to me and have only found out that information through a series of concentrated investigations into my life is not insignificantly small. I will not stun you without provocation, Mr. Kirk.”

“You know what? After how my day’s been, I can take my husband pointing a phaser at me. Come on. I remember how to get to the ship, but we’ve got to run. I’ll take lead.” Jim waited as the door slid open, and they stepped out into an empty hallway.

The same as the first day. Nothing but windows that showed empty black space. Jim wondered dimly if this was just some sort of dollhouse. A form of amusement for a child. Maybe he was acting out a play.

“In case we get separated,” Jim told him, turning around to face Spock. “Once you get to the main hallway. Face the main viewport. The hallway you need is in your three o’clock position. Take two lefts, and then you’ll reach the hangar. I don’t care if I’m on or not – you need to get on the bridge, _gun it,_ and get the hell out of here. Do you understand?”

“If we are bondmates, I cannot leave you behind.”

“While that’s really sweet of you to say, we don’t know the rules here. You can leave and I could pop back onto the bridge. Maybe we’re both dead already. But we can’t afford to stay here.”

Jim figured it hurt Spock a little less than it hurt him to consider that possibility. That there was a chance he could be left here, in this weird nightmare, while Spock escaped. But if he escaped, then Jim could manage.

Together, they ran down through the hallways. Jim knew Spock was purposefully limiting himself so that Jim could keep up. He offered once for Spock to go ahead, to reach the _Enterprise_ before him, but Spock had simply shaken his head and said he would not abandon his post if he could help it.

Great.

It was different than the first day.

Going through the halls, Jim saw life. None of it seemed to notice him, though. He would hear a hovering levitating gurney, would hear children’s laughter down the halls. They briefly passed through the residential deck and Jim faintly heard _Happy Birthday_ and smelled cake. Bulletin boards were put up, advertising various events going on within the starbase. Someone was feeding the fish.

“They’re getting better,” Jim muttered to himself, and that thought made him worried. Soon, would he even be able to tell? How many days would it take for this place to drive him crazy? Especially if he didn’t have Spock around?

At first, he thought they could make it.

They approached the main terminal, and Jim was so overjoyed to see it entirely empty, as it was before. Not even Laskey could stop them now.

It didn’t remain empty for long.

As soon as they stepped foot in it, Jim watched as he saw a hundred Starfleet officers appear, flickering as a series of disjointed, light-filled triangles before taking tangible form. They all held phasers in their hand, and although Jim couldn’t see it perfectly, it sure as hell didn’t take more than a guess to know that they weren’t on stun.

“Hey, assholes!” Jim greeted with an almost manic grin on his face. He was just so _tired_ of this. “Your simulation isn’t perfect, by the way! In this situation, regulation dictates that phasers would be left on stun. Maybe update your code a little!”

“Jim,” Spock remarked behind him, reaching up to put a hand on his shoulder. That wasn’t taken lightly. Spock didn’t even think they were together, and he was touching him. Jim turned around to see Spock looking at him sternly. Jim calmed down, and then some.

“We were so close,” he despaired, his shoulders slumping as he gestured to the other officers. “Spock, I don’t … I don’t know how much longer I can do this. Every time we even get out of the hospital wing, we get stopped. I don’t know how to do this. Especially if they’re throwing in stuff like … stuff like you not remembering we’re bonded.”

He could only die so many times and still keep going on. Jim looked down at the floor, and Spock moved his hand against his face.

Even bonded, Spock would never do that with people present. Too intimate. Then again, this _wasn’t_ real. “We are bonded,” he repeated. “Which means I must have been under the impression that you are remarkable, or otherwise extraordinary. A man of high character.”

“Yeah,” Jim admitted wearily, raising his hand to press against Spock’s. “You did.”

“I would not have been bonded someone who would term that his life, and therefore all lives that he is responsible for, forfeit.”

“It’s … it’s not like that. You know I’d never let anyone on the crew get hurt if I could help it, _including and especially_ you.”

“Then …?”

“But I just don’t know what to _do,_ Spock,” Jim insisted. “If you’ve got any ideas, I’m ready and willing to hear them.”

“Every time you have woken up, the situation has been different, yes?”

“Well, yeah. The first time I woke up and we were shot by the flag officer. Second time, I was, I think, accidentally killed by Bones.”

“And now I am not aware of our marriage and have been given a story about you being a traitor.”

“Yeah.”

“So it is likely that it will change the next time.”

“Oh, and be even worse? I have no doubt.”

“You must keep trying, Captain,” Spock urged him. “For your ship and your crew.”

Spock was right. He was always right, and Jim never knew why he ever doubted the guy. Spock steadied him, got him back on track, and stopped the selfish, aggressive sixteen-year-old that always wanted to take over when times got tough.

“I know that this is weird to say, with you not remembering and all,” Jim murmured, eyes shut as he leaned into Spock’s hand, “But I really, really love you.”

Spock did not respond to it. Frankly, Jim couldn’t blame him. As shitty as it was for Jim, he couldn’t imagine what Spock was going through at that moment. “Attempt to run for the _Enterprise,”_ Spock advised. “It is statistically improbable, but you may still make it.”

Basically no chance. But hey, Jim had worked off worse. He opened his eyes and stepped away, glancing at the dozens of Starfleet officers, still holding their phasers at them. Spock took his own phaser from his waist.

Jim broke out into a run, straight for a cluster of them.

He made it a few feet.

Jim lost consciousness before he hit the floor, the entire world going dark around him. _Basically no chance._


	4. Cycles Four - Seven

When Jim woke up next, Spock wasn’t there.

The seat where he’d woke up next to him for the past three cycles was empty, and there was no sign of him. The clock on the wall remained. Dr. McCoy didn’t come in. Jim felt no bond, could not call out to him no matter how much he tried. He searched the room, first, for anything that could help, any tool that he could use. Nothing. Even the replicator wasn’t working.

Fine. _Fuck it._ Just like Spock said, he was going to get out of there for his crew. He wasn’t going to worry about where Spock was, if leaving without him meant leaving _without_ him. He was going to get out of there.

“Cycle four,” Jim grunted, looking around the room.

There was a vent that he could reach on, if he just stood high enough on the bed. Unfortunately, he couldn’t quite get his grip to pull it down, and it remained sealed. There were no windows in his room. Nothing he could even _hypothetically_ use as a weapon.

He yanked open the door.

The walls were a different color. Good, he’d been getting tired of that eggshell white. Now they were light blue. Jim was going to tear the paint off the walls with his goddamn hands and crumble this place to pieces around him.

He took off at another run again. There was no time to investigate. He just had to get to the _Enterprise_ and get out.

When he stopped at the main terminal and saw Admiral Pike, he wasn’t even surprised.

“Now look here, Jim, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, walkin’ around like you are, but you’ve been hurt, you – “

“Don’t care, you’re dead,” Jim grunted at him. After stopping once, Jim looked around at the rest of the hallways and started out at a jog again. He managed to actually make it to the hallway to the hangar, and was just about to make the first left when he heard a laser fire and felt a burning sensation at his back again. _Fine,_ Jim thought to himself again as he lapsed into unconsciousness, _fuck it._

-

“Cycle five, alive,” Jim murmured as he yanked open the door again. He’d done a precursory search around the room and, finding nothing of interest, went back into the hallway.

The starbase was becoming more and more authentic, now. He actually bumped into a few kids running down the corridors, playing with an old-fashioned model starship. Jim was no longer curious. He didn’t care if he had to do it again and again, he was going to reach the Enterprise _or_ whoever was holding him here would grow bored and kill him.

Being stubborn was his MO, after all. _Fuck it._

He made it to the main terminal, this time pleasantly filled with people having lunch from a new café. Oh, that was new this time around. He’d stop for a coffee if he wasn’t sick and tired of this entire charade. He made it to the hallway, took a left, and ran into a young woman.

“Jim. _Jim,_ oh honey,” his mother cooed, reaching out for his arm to stop him. “You shouldn’t be out of _bed,_ Frank and I were – “

_Oh cool! Fuck off._

Jim laughed at her, yanking his grip away. “While I have to give you guys props for picking someone alive this time, you _really_ have no idea how little I care.” Still, as expected, there was a phaser at her hip. Jim made a grab for it, but his mom was too quick for him.

-

Cycle Six. Still no Spock.

Jim was starting to get a little worried that he was consistently not appearing. Sure, they were stronger together, and They (whoever They were) wouldn’t like that, but he had to be somewhere, right? He seriously considered wasting this cycle to just go out searching for him, but _no,_ Spock was right. He had to find the ship.

Room was the same.

Starbase wasn’t.

When he opened the door, Jim was in the wastelands of Tarsus IV again.

He did have to give Them props. They were getting creative. This actually managed to surprise him. They were getting better. Maybe they were absorbing some of his memories. Maybe soon, he just wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

He walked out regardless, and had to admit that he had no clue how to get out of this one. The Enterprise, surely, had to be somewhere. If not … well, he knew where the communication building was on Tarsus IV. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget. Maybe, within the grounds for this reality, he could call for help.

This was definitely post-massacre, by at least six months. The buildings, those that were standing, were dilapidated. Jim saw nobody on the streets, no roving bands of soldiers. He walked along the pathway in his medical clothes, wondering if he should just start calling for Kodos, so he could get a head start on Cycle Seven.

It was so real. That was what Jim could marvel at most. A low hum always seemed to filter around Tarsus IV, rolling off the streets and echoing off the buildings. Every so often, he’d hear the rummaging of a rodent or other pest through the trash. Jim could almost imagine he was a child again, scheming to keep a group of in-over-their-heads other children alive.

If they goal was to keep him alive and complacent, Jim thought to himself, they _really_ chose the wrong place to put him.

There was a scream from the nearby alleyway. Jim didn’t even hesitate. For a second, he forgot the illusion, forgot everything that was going on, and just bolted towards that scream.

There was a young boy there. Tellarite. Jim recognized him, and _damn it,_ he couldn’t remember his name, but he recognized him, and recognized that he died on Tarsus IV. He’d been one of Jim’s. He’d gotten angry one day and went out to face the soldiers on his own, and it hadn’t ended well.

A soldier was advancing on him, a phaser rifle in hand.

At that moment, Jim didn’t give a _fuck_ what was real anymore. That was a boy. A child. He approached the soldier and yanked him back, before an impact in his gut sent him reeling backwards into darkness.

-

Cycle Seven.

He had to keep trying. For Spock. He didn’t even bother with checking the room, now, instead reaching for the door and seeing what fresh hell awaited him.

Outside, it was a pleasant oasis. At least, it seemed like it. He recognized it as one of the long, wrap-around balconies on one of the Federation halls. Suitable for galas, diplomatic events, and in this particular case, a wedding.

Damn, he’d almost forgotten how good Spock looked. Jim didn’t think he was the _real_ Spock – there was no recognition on his face. Nothing to indicate that he was anything more than an illusion. And, of course, Jim felt nothing through their bond. They’d gotten bonded after the ceremony, anyway, when they were alone and cozy and approved by the Vulcan elder.

But after Tarsus IV, after dying six times, after seeing his mom and Admiral Pike …

This was pleasant enough.

There were so many people. Both him and Spock had recognized, given their awards and accolades, that there would be some … public interest in their wedding. Neither had _much_ interest in having a wedding beyond crewmembers and some friends they’d made, but as they started to create a guest list … it had just started to grow and grow, even if some of those invites were out of obligation only.

What could he say? Jim had been a friendly guy.

He basked in it, looking around. He could always relieve the memory through a mind meld, but that wasn’t quite the same as actually being there. And, whoever These guys were, they’d gotten a lot of the details right.

And … man, there was Spock, standing up front. Looking at him like he was the goddamn best thing in the world.

“Well,” Jim muttered after a few seconds of seeing people stare, “Time to get this show on the road.”

He jogged down the aisle until he got to the front, seeing the senior crew all clustered around. There was already some confused murmurings – _who jogged at their own wedding –_ that only grew into confused mumbles as Jim picked up a chair and brought it around to sit by them. Spock looked hurt.

It was time to get some questions answered. Nobody here looked like they had phasers on, so maybe he was safe for now.

“Scotty, I know you were eating peanuts all throughout my wedding. Hand ‘em over,” Jim commanded, extending out a hand towards the engineer.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Cap’n. Aren’t you supposed to be up there, tyin’ the knot?”

“You totally were. It drove Spock crazy the entire time. Hand ‘em over, I’m starving.” Jim didn’t know when the last time he’d eaten was, if time was even a _thing_ anymore. But he was pretty hungry. Scotty grumbled for a few seconds before handing the bag over. He dug his hand in and deshelled a few, popping them into his mouth. “Thanks. So, what are you guys all trying to do, here?”

Uhura blinked in confusion. “Watching you ruin your own wedding?”

“Wow! They got the sass _down._ Come on,” Jim urged, leaning off the back of his chair. “Just tell me what the goal of this is. This little … experiment you guys are running. I know, I know, you’re probably not supposed to tell the experiment rat, but I might be able to help if I know what the goal is.”

“Goal?” Sulu asked, his husband next to him. Their kid was already asleep on his lap. _Oh, yeah, I remember that. That was cute._ “Jim, are you feeling alright? Your … your clothing, and you’re supposed to be going up there. Your wedding?”

“Yeah yeah yeah. I’ll beg for forgiveness later,” Jim waved him off. His back was facing the audience and Spock, but he heard their murmuring grow behind him. “You can stop with this whole illusion bullshit. Obviously I’m not playing along. So what do you want from me?”

“To wait.” Chekov admitted next to him, calm and meek. “We are learning more about you with each cycle, though you have been frustratingly quick to end them.”

 _Finally. Answers._ Jim continued chewing, thinking to himself. “Alright. Can I learn more about you guys? What species you are?”

In unison, they all looked down, silent. “Okay. No on that. Alright, what do you want to learn more about me? Stuff you couldn’t get just by asking?”

“Well, Cap’n. We wanted to learn what it’d take for you to know it was an illusion. And would ya believe, you figured out it wasn’t real by the second cycle. Maybe the third, tops. We weren’t expectin’ that.”

“See, should’ve wiped my memories between cycles. That’s where it got you. I remembered everything.”

Uhura was annoyed. “We _tried that._ But it was clear, with the mental bond you share with the Vulcan, that wouldn’t be possible. If we wiped yours, they lived in him. If we wiped his, they lived in you. We thought providing the shared nightmare theory would convince you, but it didn’t work.”

Jim nodded to himself. “So what’s the goal now? I know it’s fake and all.”

Behind him, Jim noticed that everyone had gone silent. He couldn’t even hear Spock behind him.

“We want to know if you are able to break the illusion.”

“You mean … leave?” At everyone’s nodded assent, Jim cracked a smile. “That is what I’ve been trying to do. But you guys have to give me a fighting chance, here.”

“How do you mean, Jim Kirk?”

“Dropping me in the middle of Tarsus IV, my wedding … I can’t even begin to know where I would escape. If you keep me in the starbase, then at least I know the rules. _And,”_ Jim added, “I started with Spock. All my plans revolve around him escaping with me. You take him away, _especially_ with the bond, well, you basically sent me into the desert without a canteen.”

They all stared at him blankly.

“Look, everyone. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than wait around for the next thirty thousand cycles for me to do this on my own. You can change the rules of the starbase, but _keep_ me there and give me Spock.”

In unison, all of the bridge crew closed their eyes. Eerie. Jim figured they were convening together, mentally. They had to be some psy-positive species. Had to be. He recalled the planet that they had touched down on, before all of this had even started, but they hadn’t been expecting any advanced life like this.

“We have agreed to your terms, Mr. Kirk. We seek only to measure your psy ability, and we admit that it would not be wholly accurate to continually change your surroundings _or_ separate you from your bondmate. Would you like to begin the next cycle now?”

Jim considered it, reaching the bottom of the bag of peanuts. He turned around in his chair to see Spock – it looked like he was frozen in time, along with the other wedding guests. Along with the chirping birds, and the band, and the sunlight filtering along the venue. Spock’s awards on his formal uniform glittered in the breeze, and his hand was clenched at his side, his fingers rolling together in nervousness.

“Give me thirty seconds,” Jim advised, letting himself admire his husband. “Then you can begin. Sometimes I just forget that I’m the luckiest damn bastard in the galaxy.”


	5. Cycle Eight and Out

_Cycle Eight. Feeling Great._

He woke, for the eighth time, in the now-familiar hospital bed. Jim stared up at the ceiling, wondering if They had taken his advance, before he felt something deep inside his mind flare to life. It was like taking a deep breath, breathing in concern, love, worry, relief. Jim opened his eyes and grinned, seeing a familiar face only a few inches away from his own.

 _T’hy’la,_ Jim felt the words nudge at his mind, _I was so worried for you._

There was going to be some aspect of hell in this cycle, Jim knew. Something that changed – maybe he’d run into his dad. Maybe they’d run into Spock’s dad. Maybe they’d open the door and step onto the crumbling Vulcan planet. But he had Spock with him.

“Hey, I’m okay,” he advised, sitting up in the bed. Spock’s hands went out to catch him, to prevent him from moving so much. “I’m okay. No pain at all, I promise. You would be able to feel it.”

Spock was confused, and Jim felt him probing at the bond weakly before he had to admit Jim was telling the truth. “It should not be possible, for you to be in no pain.”

“How can I be in pain, when I wake up to a pretty face like yours?” Maybe a _little_ sappy, but Jesus, it felt like he hadn’t seen Spock in weeks. It took all of his strength not to pull him forward for an embrace. “Really, you’re better than any doctor.”

Aw. Spock was _flattered,_ Jim could feel that much. “But I saw you,” he insisted, “Your head was thrown against a wall. We had to transport you to a starbase.”

“Hang on. You mean you didn’t wake up in that chair?”

“I would never fall asleep while watching you,” Spock responded, offended. “No. On our away mission –”

“To where?”

“The fourth quadrant of the Vernal Galaxy. We were determining colony suitability. The planet we landed on sustained an earthquake, and you injured your head. We plotted a course to the nearest starbase to get advanced medical treatment.”

“This is the first time I’ve woken up?”

“Yes.” Spock reached forward, his fingers folding around Jim’s wrist. “Jim, it is good to see that you’ve woken. I had no doubts, but it was concerning.” _Very detached words for a guy who’s basically leaking worry and relief, honey._

_I know._

So that’s what the twist was this cycle. Not the worst one, Jim told himself. “Where’s your comm badge, babe? Shirking regulation?”

Spock winced once. “I have been somewhat agitated by your state. I left it on the USS Enterprise some hours ago, and did not want to leave your side.”

“It’s okay. Won’t tell the Admiralty.”

Spock smiled at him, his hand carefully brushing against his cheek. Seeing Spock smile was enough to have Jim resting for a second. _At least they listened to me. Damn, it’s good to see you._

_They, Jim?_

Well, it was going to come out sometime, even if he knew how it would sound. Spock being there was amazing, but they still had to get out of there. “How much do you trust me?”

It was a bad question before it even left his mouth. Spock didn’t do well with those types of questions, and he felt Spock desperately searching for an adequate answer before settling on the truth. “I don’t know how to quantify that, but I do trust you.”

“Okay.” A pause. How to approach this _delicately?_ Jim waved his hand on the bed, gesturing to the room. “Spock, this isn’t real. All of this is an illusion, just some sort of … _game_ by an alien species. I’ve been through this before.”

Spock did not react, but Jim saw his eyes flick to the door.

“I’m not crazy. I’m not high.”

“You have not been given any pain medication, but you _have_ sustained a head injury. Your perception of reality may be altered.”

“I _know …_ I know how it sounds. But Spock, this is the eighth time I’ve woken up like this. And every time but one, it ended up with me or both of us dead. I’ve only just gotten you back after five cycles of not having you.”

Spock had started to stand from his chair, to go and grab a doctor. Jim didn’t even realize how agitated he was before he felt _it’s okay, t’hy’la, you are injured, it is okay, it is logical_ across the bond.

He left agitated pretty quickly and pulled right into frustration. His hand shot out, grabbing Spock’s forearm before he could make the door. “Spock, I know what I’m saying. I’m serious. We have to reach the Enterprise. Okay, you remember transporting my unconscious ass here on the starship, but do you _really_ remember? Can you think of anything unusual that happened? _Anything_ that stood out to you?”

“No. The transport was smooth and without incident.”

“And isn’t that really strange in itself, that there was _nothing_ of note? I mean, Jesus Christ, Spock, we can’t go more than a few days without running into a space anomaly or aggressive life.” His lips split open into an exasperated smile. “Think about it. Would this really have been the craziest thing to happen?”

  
Spock considered it, before admitting: “It would not be the most bizarre incident.”

“I know I’m asking a lot of you, here, and I wish I didn’t have to put you in that situation, but you _have_ to trust me here. Forget about us being married, trust me because I’m the Captain and I _have_ to keep everyone safe.”

“Assuming that you are speaking the truth – what do we do, now?”

“We’ve tried to find the Enterprise through the main doors before – twice, actually. Doesn’t work.” Jim pushed himself up and gestured toward the vent in the ceiling. “Help me pry that off. We can get to the Enterprise through the vents; she’ll still be docked to the starbase.”

Spock looked up at the ceiling, and Jim could almost hear the cogs whirring in his head.

“Look, either I’m wrong and you embarrass the hell out of yourself by crawling around air vents with your Captain for no reason, or I’m right and we save the ship.”

“That is not what I am considering,” Spock responded thoughtfully. “I have already said I trust you. I am only wondering who should go first.”

Oh. Okay. Spock was going along with it. _Very_ going along with it, as he pushed himself up from the chair and climbed on top of Jim’s bed. Jim stood along with him as Spock pried around the edges of the vent, eventually pulling the grating off the ceiling.

Spock pulled himself up first, there was some ruffling, and then two pale hands extended from the vent to help him up.

_I’m the luckiest guy in the galaxy._

_I know._

Together, they went through the vents without incident. Finding where to go was a little trickier. Every so often, they would pause to look through the gratings to assess where they were, generally, on the starbase. Jim knew that _that_ wasn’t helping his case much. Every time they peered through the vent, they saw a perfect glimpse into what looked to be an entirely normal starbase.

Spock had a growing suspicion against him, Jim sensed it, but he didn’t vocalize it and Jim didn’t pry further. He tried not to question Spock’s emotions too much.

As they crossed, Jim could see that they’d reached the main terminal. Still entirely normal, with people settling down to have lunch or talk about their day.

It was the hallway that Jim began to feel a little uneasy.

 _Too many security officers,_ Spock agreed with him as they took a left. Four, five, six, seven. They’d passed eight so far. Jim was suddenly grateful that they’d taken the somewhat more squished and hot route. _Was this similar to the previous cycles?_

_Let’s just say I’m not surprised in the slightest._

They took the second left, finally approaching the hangar. Jim saw a large vertical grate straight ahead that would do to let them in, and Spock immediately went to work. The fledgeling suspicion in his husband was gone, replaced with only determination and urgency.

As Spock pulled the grating off, an alarm started to sound. Red flights flashed around the hangar, the alarm so closed that Jim clapped his hands against his ears. _Fuck._ They were so close. He could see the Enterprise in front of them, _see_ it perfectly, she was still hooked up to the walkway, they could just make a break for it.

 _I agree. We will make a break for it._ Spock had twisted himself around to look at Jim. _Run. Run now._

With that, Spock had pulled himself out of the vent and was sprinting towards the _Enterprise._ Jim followed suit. His feet hit the ground and he was running into the Enterprise, into the small connecting corridor and then up through a Jefferies’ tube to the bridge.

Spock was already at the navigational station by the time Jim got there. He saw no other crewmembers and couldn’t even bring himself to be surprised.

Sitting at the station next to Spock, Jim pulled up the transport monitors. The engines roared to life. From this distance, he couldn’t hear the alarms sounding from the starbase, but he knew that they weren’t out of the woods yet.

“Transport walkway disengaging,” the computer nonetheless chirped softly.

“Forward to thrusters,” Jim muttered to the man beside him. “Spock, you’ve got a course in?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

Spock sent him a look that Jim felt to his very soul – _I don’t think ‘where’ really matters in this circumstance._

The ship lurched away from the starbase in short bursts, until, all at once – a gigantic burst struck the ship, almost sending Jim out of his chair. _Fuck. They’re shooting, Spock. We gotta get going._

Spock nodded in understanding – course set, he leaped up from the navigational position and passed his own position to sit in the chief security officer’s chair. “Shields still operating at 89%, Captain.” The question of weapons wasn’t brought up, for which Jim was careful. They just didn’t have the time.

“Moving to impulse,” Jim growled out from his post, and that was about when he felt it.

His head hurt.

His head was hurting _bad._ So was Spock’s. Still, as the impulse engines took over, the ship started to pick up some local speed away from the starbase. The stars shone in straight lines along the main viewport. They were out.

“Did we receive any damage from that blast?”  


“Nothing that would impede our movement.” There was pain in Spock’s voice. When Jim turned around, he saw Spock leaning over the terminal, fingers pressed against his head. Jim couldn’t blame him. “We …” His eyes squeezed shut in focus. “We must move to warp speed, if we are to escape. There are no biological signs aboard the ship.”

Jim tried not to face the idea that maybe this wasn’t how they escaped. Maybe they were wrong. Maybe the rest of the crew was still aboard the starbase.

Maybe he’d just doomed them all.

“Yeah. Yeah, moving to warp five.” Jim made the appropriate movements on the monitor, and, almost as if in response, the headache grew worse. He slouched over the monitor in a pained grunt. “ _Fuck. Fuck it._ Warp nine. Just _go.”_ Jim remained permanently crouched over the monitor, his head resting against the cool glass. There were a thousand fireworks going off inside his head, hammering against his skull, before –

_Jim. Look outside the main viewport._

He agreed. Trembling, he raised his hand off the monitor to look outside at the inky blackness of space.

Space, apparently, was divided into triangles.

And then further. And _further._ The fractals grew, letting in shiny, white-blue beams of light shine through. It was as if a curtain was being ripped apart, until suddenly, Jim could see nothing but bright-white blue, eclipsing even the interior of the Enterprise.

In reality, Jim yelped awake, almost ready to start screaming. He bolted straight on the bed he’d been placed in. _Pressure. Pressure on his head._ His hand went up to scramble against whatever was pressing at his temples, yanking off some wired emitters and throwing them to the ground.

He was in a cave. A dark cave. And then there were –

 _God,_ it made so much fucking _sense._ “Talosians,” Jim breathed out. Three stood in front of him, bulbous heads and all, inspecting him as if _they_ were the explorers of the unknown. “You haven’t been reported outside of Talos IV.”

One chuckled in their white robe. “We are no longer capable of space travel, Captain, stop your theories where they stand. We fled Talos IV before nuclear warfare devastated our people. We had sensed that soon, using our illusory abilities defensively would not be enough to protect our small sect.”

“Defensively?” A voice asked from beside him, and Jim turned.

Spock. Spock, in his uniform and wearing his commbadge, and Jim nevertheless broke out into a grin at seeing him. _Baby, I missed you,_ he projected. Spock gave him a side-look, a quick thought of _professionalism, Captain,_ and returned to the Talosians. “Most of your species now uses it recreationally, where they are not entirely physiologically dependent.”

“That is how we feared they would progress,” Another Talosian stepped in. “We have no such dependence, Commander. We only perform our illusions defensively, to protect ourselves.”

“So – that’s what this was? To _protect_ yourselves?” Jim asked, hand smoothing through his hair. The headache was gone, at least, but it was getting replaced with a growing anger. _I’ve been put through hell. Spock’s been put through hell._ “We’re on a peaceful exploratory mission. We didn’t even expect to find life here.”

“It … became apparent after some time that you were not here to attack us. However, if you are able to come and explore, others would soon follow. We took the opportunity to perform additional research.”

“Research on how long humans would be able to stay in the illusion, or, alternatively, how long until they were able to escape it. We were not under the belief that we could keep you under the illusion indefinitely against your will.”

That scanned. Jim shared a look with Spock, the same question burning. “How long has it been?”

“Slightly over one week, Captain. As you can see, you are unhurt. And we do truly mean you no harm and expect no harm to come upon us. We were only preparing for our inevitable future.”

Part of Jim, the reckless farmboy from Iowa, wanted to go after them. Wanted to _fight_ them. He’d seen his bondmate die, he’d died _multiple_ times, he’d been placed back on Tarsus IV, he’d been poisoned by his best friend. He’d been put through hell, and sure, maybe he didn’t have a mark on him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t hurt.

Whether it was the calm tranquility he felt through the bond or a desire for peace overall, Jim sighed and dipped his head, non-aggressive.

_You know this is the correct decision, Jim. I know it is difficult. I am angry over the situation, as well._

“We’re going to leave.” Jim announced to the Talosians, going to his feet. The mouth of the cave was no more than a few feet away. He was positive the Enterprise was still in orbit. A little over a week wasn’t enough time to declare someone KIA. “We’re going to send a report to the United Federation of Planets that _no_ starship arrive here ever again. But the Federation _is_ expanding to this territory, and I would suggest that you not think of anyone who arrives here as a threat _or_ an opportunity to experiment.”

His body was stiff as he stretched, and soon Spock stood in line without him. The Talosians were impenetrable – whether they would think on Jim’s words or not, he didn’t know. Still, they did not fight either of them as they went towards the mouth of the cave and into the bright sunlight.

 _Please tell me this is real, Spock,_ Jim inwardly begged, staring up at the sky. It felt real, but everything else had _felt_ real. _Please tell me we’re still not stuck there._

 _I am unable to discern any true differences between the illusion and reality. However,_ Spock added, _If I am to go by what you would call a ‘gut instinct’, I believe we are in reality._

He could take that. He could definitely take that.

“Scotty,” Jim spoke into his commbadge, staring up at the bright orange sky. A very excited, Scottish accent exclaimed in surprise (and more than a few colorful swears). Jim smiled tiredly to himself. “I’ll explain it all later. Right now, though, two to beam up.”


	6. Epilogue

Apparently, going missing for more than a week had led to more than a little trouble.

There’d been the formal debriefing of the bridge crew in the observation lounge, followed by the formal debriefing of the Admiralty in the conference room, followed by _additional_ reports to specialized xenoanthropologists in the Captain’s ready room, followed by a jaunt to the counselor, followed by a, frankly, too extensive medical examination by an incredibly worried Dr. McCoy as they fled this sector of the galaxy.

Just like the Talosians had said – he’d been unhurt. The counselor had called for a few more sessions, though, but Jim would take that. They were meant to help.

He’d eaten somewhere between all of the appointments, and now … he just felt tired. Jim had blocked the bond pretty early on in the day. Neither of them liked it that much, but Jim didn’t do well with it on long, busy days. Plus, it was hard enough sorting out his own emotions verbally to the counselor, trying to pick apart which, _exactly,_ was Spock’s and which was his was an unnecessary challenge.

Entering into their quarters, though, Jim let the bond breathe again.

He immediately chuckled. Spock was just as exhausted.

Still, the half-Vulcan was sitting on their bed, reading something on his PADD. Jim was willing to bet dollars-to-donuts that it wasn’t precisely recreational, but instead a report from the science department. He’d been gone for a week, after all. He’d missed a lot.

_A strange human phrase, Jim, but you are nevertheless correct. It is a report from the science department._

Jim smiled further as he approached their bed. He immediately went face-down onto it, ready to just sleep with his shoes and commbadge on, before he decided against it. Sliding off his shoes and removing the badge, Jim went under the covers.

Spock joined him after turning the light off. He curled on his side, facing him. In the dark, he felt Spock’s arms reach out and slide around his torso. Suddenly, Jim was being pulled in a crushing hug.

“It’s been one hell of a week, huh,” Jim chuckled. The day had been so busy that he hadn’t really had time to sit and think about it. He wrapped his own arms around Spock, underneath his shirt, bunching it up around his chest. “I’m … I’m really glad you’re okay, Spock.”

At first, Spock didn’t respond. He only buried his face against Jim’s neck, breathing him in. He was relieved. He was hurting.

“It’s just … you know. It’s easier, when I tell myself that it wasn’t real. Not gonna be able to burn those images from my head, but when I look at you, and see that you’re okay … it’s easier. Everything makes sense.” Jim breathed, sliding one hand up to burrow in Spock’s hair. Squirming, Spock pushed his already-bunched up shirt off his shoulders and went back to holding Jim tightly. “Are you okay?”

Spock was blocking the bond. _Ass,_ Jim thought to nobody in particular.

“The sensation of helplessness was unpleasant,” Spock finally admitted to him. “I am aware of all that happened. I am aware of whole-heartedly believing you were an enemy of the Federation, and also that you were genuinely injured somewhere else. I was aware that I, for the most part, had to rely on you blindly in order to escape. While I trust you implicitly …”

“Operating on blind trust is stressful after a while, no matter who it is.”

“Exactly.”

“Well,” Jim considered, “There’s nothing you could have done better. That the reason why I’m currently thinking at a brick wall, or? I know doing that tires you out. And you’re already plenty tired.”

And Spock _was_ plenty tired. He sighed and relaxed his control, sagging against Jim’s body. _Thank you. I will recover from this._

 _I know. It’s a lot._ Jim sighed, shutting his eyes. _I’m tired, too. But we did it, we got through it, nobody died, and I still get to go to sleep with you. That’s my criteria for success._

_Indeed. I love you, t’hy’la._

He reached for Spock’s hands and brought it to his lips, kissing a few of his fingers. Spock shivered in his arms but didn’t otherwise move, still limp against him. It was cute, the way some of the barriers came down when Spock slept. _I love you, too, honey,_ he responded, tucking his head against Spock’s neck and closing his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> This was an idea that's been kicking around in my head for a while -- I've always liked the episodic nature of Star Trek TOS and TNG (and to a lesser extent the other series), and some episodes (especially in TNG) inspired this plot for me. I've always thought that the Talosians are also an interesting people with a lot of potential (though they're kind of stuck on Talos IV, which limits their reach). I also wanted to make this an established relationship between Kirk and Spock, mostly because I wanted to explore how a bond could be utilized during an illusion. I've always liked the plotline of characters being thrown into this psychological nightmare that you need to figure out how to get out of. Spock, I think, wouldn't immediately rationalize it as an illusion, especially since he gets the brunt end of the stick in terms of retaining memory. Jim would definitely be very done with this by Cycle 2.
> 
> This was originally intended to be a short, 5k fic, but ... it kind of got out of hand. 
> 
> Also, I just realized that both this story and my other ongoing Star Trek story (The Prodigal) both start with Jim waking up in a hospital bed.
> 
> Welp.
> 
> Thanks for reading, an an additional thank you if you leave a comment!


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